


Angel of the Fourth Day

by pantalaimon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Biblical References, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stars, ineffable husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantalaimon/pseuds/pantalaimon
Summary: Aziraphale watched Crowley create galaxies, and then had to endure watching him Fall.





	1. In The Beginning...

God took seven days to create all of existence, but the fourth day was Aziraphale’s favorite. Even now, six thousand years later, he remembered every moment of that fourth day. The earth was brand new then, a day old, plants still sparkling with dew, a rather beautiful invention. The moss twinkled and the seas shone on the morning of the fourth day, but the sky was blank, a bleary eye opened too early. As the Angel of the Eastern Gate, Aziraphale had been busy manning the Eastern Gate during all this creation hullabaloo, but he had enjoyed watching it happen immensely.  


And the fourth day did not disappoint. With a blaze of light, something burst into the sky, illuminating the trees in a soft golden light, and bringing warmth to the otherwise cool air. Aziraphale gasped and clapped his hands lightly, shouting up into the sky. “What is this now, Almighty?”  
The voice of God replied to him calmly, for They were not that far away from the Earth at the time. “This will be called the Sun, Aziraphale, and it will bring life and warmth to the Earth.”  


Aziraphale sighed in wonder. “Oh, yes indeed, I quite like that.” And he really, truly did. In fact, Aziraphale watched the sun trace its way through the sky for the whole day, paying very little attention to the Eastern Gate which he was the Angel of. When the Sun finally approached the edge of the world, it got redder, its light beginning to seep out into the sky around it, and Aziraphale started to worry. He shouted once more into the sky.  


“God? Um, Almighty, yes, hello? I do believe that Sun you made is dangerously close to falling off!”  


The Almighty’s voice returned, kindly and slightly amused. “Aziraphale, my child, do not worry. The Sun will rise again tomorrow morning, and it will be even better than this one.”  


Aziraphale was relieved. “Oh, good. Just- just checking!” He turned towards the reddening light and smiled.  


God’s voice came once again from above, as a ghostly white sphere appeared opposite the Sun in the sky. “And this shall be the Moon, lighting the night time and pulling the tides.”  


Turning himself around, Aziraphale gasped again and held his hands to his heart. “Oh my,” he whispered. “I do believe this one is even better than the last!” The Moon took over where the Sun was leaving off, highlighting everything on Earth in a sheer silvery light. The Moonlight settled on Aziraphale’s outstretched wings, feeling almost like a cool breeze in the rapidly approaching night.  


Then, in the darkness next to the Moon, the Angel saw pinpricks of light begin to appear. Tiny things, what were they? Aziraphale cupped his hands around his mouth to yell yet again into the sky.  


“God? Are those- is that Dew you have accidentally placed in the sky?”  


The Almighty’s voice was further away now, flung from the sky to reach the Earth. They sounded a little less amused now and slightly more irritated at Aziraphale’s questions. “Those are Stars, Aziraphale. I am having my Angels create them as they wish.”  


Aziraphale blinked. “I see. Well, they are quite good. How many of them are there going to be?”  


This time there was no answer. Aziraphale thought perhaps God had gone too far into the sky, perhaps They couldn’t hear his voice from the ground anymore. He looked around. “Well,” he muttered to himself. “Surely I can be gone for a few seconds.”  


Checking for last minute arrivers at the Eastern Gate (there weren’t any) Aziraphale unfolded his wings and lifted his bare feet off the ground. He wasn’t sure how far he had to go to reach these Stars, but just taking a peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? After all, nothing was happening at the Gate, why did he have to be stuck there the whole time?  


Aziraphale few swiftly through the night air and spiraled his way past the Moon. It really did feel good to stretch his wings after a few days. Up this high, he could spot where the Sun had gone after it had set, coursing its way around the entire globe. He pushed his way towards the points of light, and as they grew larger, more and more of them popped up around him. Aziraphale slowed, letting a few dust motes of light brush past his skin, while larger ones singed a feather or two off of his wings.  


As he came to a near halt in wonder, he heard laughter in front of him. Angels, hundreds of them, lazily floating in space, all wings and eyes and smiles, dotting out points of light with the tips of their fingers. They twined in a rhythm that was not near enough to a dance, only an echo. A Star came into being here, a Star there, more and more and more until Aziraphale was spinning around with the effort to see them all being born. And as he spun, his eyes came to rest on one particular Angel out of all of them.  


This Angel, with hair the color of the Sun about to fall, was on his own in the flocks, plotting out collections of Stars, molding them into images, stories, spirals of light. His Stars were not lazily placed points of light, they spun around each other, they towered in glowing clouds, and they came to rest in the eyes of the Angel creating them.  


For a moment Aziraphale lost himself in those Stars. He felt as if he would never be happier than this moment, floating gently through space, surrounded by the laughter and light of Creation.  


God’s voice came softly from behind him. “Do you like them, Aziraphale?”  


He kept his eyes on the red Angel, the Starbringer that he had never seen before. His voice was barely audible as he spoke. “I love them, Almighty.”  


God seemed pleased, as pleased as God could be. “The Stars are meant to be beautiful, but they are also meant to guide us home.” The last part of that sentence was rather pointed, Aziraphale thought.  


“Yes, home, er, the Eastern Gate. Right.” He turned to fly back towards the Earth, glancing over his shoulder once more. The Starbringer was only one out of millions of Angels that Aziraphale had never seen before, but something in him ached all the same, to leave now. Sighing, he stretched his wings and drifted his way through the stars, back towards the Eastern Gate.


	2. He Didn't Mean To Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley went too fast for Aziraphale.

Adam and Eve were lovely people, Aziraphale thought. They seemed almost as excited as he was whenever they stumbled upon a new creation in some remote corner of the Garden. They would spend hours looking at fresh leaves, poking through worms with a stick, or tossing rocks into a shallow pool and hearing the splash. This was what delighted Aziraphale the most about Adam and Eve. In the moments that he stole away from the Eastern Gate to watch them, he got to see them learn. Aziraphale thought that he himself learned things every day, but all the other angels seemed to have all the answers, or at least trust that the Almighty had them. He almost envied the humans’ ignorance, their delight in small things.

His job was to watch over the Eastern Gate, and if anyone sought passage, to announce loudly “The Gate is sealed, for God has decreed it so!” But to his knowledge, there was really no one that didn’t already know that the Gate was closed, what with Adam and Eve being so content in their Garden and all. Really, it was a foolish job, and just something to put in the paperwork. 

So, every day (and there had only been a few, really) Aziraphale had positioned himself in the sky above the Garden to smile fondly at the couple splashing about and poking at their own skin in wonder. He had a nice cloud to sit on, and with a few flicks of his wings to keep a breeze going, it was rather perfect. 

On one of these rather perfect days (Aziraphale thought it might have been the twelfth in all), something started to prick in the back of his mind. A strange sensation, that something was out of place. He scanned the horizon, not really knowing what he was looking for (the first storm had not been invented yet). Everything was still in the vast desert surrounding the lush green Garden.

Rumblings began to come from everywhere, distant shouting growing stronger with every second. Aziraphale whipped his head back around to the Garden, but no, Adam and Eve looked almost as confused as he did at the noise. They shaded their eyes and began eagerly pointing at something in the sky behind Aziraphale. 

Getting up quickly from where he had been lounging, Aziraphale turned himself around and gasped. Shapes hurtled through the sky, shapes with wings burning and turning black, pointed at the ground with rage. Streaks of smoke followed the charcoal arrow in the lead, twisting and spiraling around the flocks of burning feathers. A great voice boomed throughout the sky, frustrated and hurt all at the same time.

“LET US LEAVE THIS PLACE, FOR WE DO NOT BELONG.”

A nervous cheer came from the angels following the leader, but Aziraphale thought he might have heard some of them cry out for what they were losing. Were they being cast out, or had these Angels sought to abandon Heaven? Aziraphale’s heart raced as he saw this bitter parade through the sky, and tears started to form at the realization of how many of them spiraled downwards.

The last Angel to fall went alone, facing not downwards but up to Heaven, where he had been. As he watched, Aziraphale caught a glimpse of fire red hair streaming in the wind. His breath rushed out of him in a soft “No,” and before he knew what he was doing, he had launched himself full speed towards the falling Starbringer. 

Aziraphale saw the Starbringer’s hands outstretched, his wings shedding snow white feathers into the air even as black ones took their place. His eyes were tightly closed as he fell, golden light bursting from under the eyelids as he cried out. Aziraphale strained his wings and reached out, but the Angel was falling too fast, too fast for him to get there in time. Aziraphale’s fingers missed the Starbringer’s by an inch as they passed each other, close enough for him to hear the Angel sob “I didn’t mean to.”

Aziraphale pulled himself to a stop in shock, breathing heavily as he watched the blackening shapes recede beneath him. For the first time in his Angelic career, he felt immense sorrow, and tears once again began to well from his eyes. One drop fell from his face, chasing the Fallen Angels toward their destination.

“Aziraphale! What, exactly, are you doing?”

Gabriel’s voice came from behind Aziraphale, making him jump and hurriedly wipe the tears from his face.

“I was just- I saw- Gabriel, what _happened _?”__

____

Gabriel looked distastefully at the dark shapes that were now almost invisible against the desert sands. “Well, when certain Angels go around asking too many questions and defying the Almighty, you get cast out.” He grinned humorlessly. “Don’t pity them. They deserved it.”

____

Aziraphale was stunned. “Don’t pi- I see. Well. Yes.” He looked downwards again, but couldn’t see anything now except for the featureless desert, and the Garden in his periphery. Gabriel clapped him on the back and flew upwards towards Heaven, making Aziraphale wince. He never tore his eyes away from the sands, and whispered to himself, “Did they deserve it?”

____


	3. Sauntering Downwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least Crowley still gets to see the Stars.

Crawley. What a ridiculous name. Crowley had changed it almost as soon as he could. After all, his fiendish being was a snake, and snakes were one of the few earthly creatures that physically couldn’t crawl. And he wasn’t having any of this animal on the head nonsense. 

“It’s like, a halo,” Beelzebub intoned, pausing dourly to let a few flies buzz. “But worse.” 

Crowley paused, to see if there was any more justification to that statement. There wasn’t. He nodded slowly.

“I see, well, as lovely as it looks on you, I think I might opt for something a bit different.” 

While Crowley cannot be credited as the first person to invent a tattoo, he was the first being to have one. Many cultures and peoples would have the brilliant idea to drive needles full of ink into the skin, bringing together pain, ritual, and aesthetics into the invention of the tattoo. Crowley just miracled his, more or less.

Being Damned wasn’t all bad once you got used to it. Hell was rank and overcrowded, and really quite noisy in the beginning, but he had gotten out of there as quickly as he could. He supposed the rest of the demon crew was getting a bit tired of him moping around the corridors of Hell, not quite participating in the riotous celebrations of Evil that were scheduled every day. So, almost immediately they had sent him back Upstairs, to poke around on Earth and “make some trouble up there”. 

He really didn’t mind, Earth was a little barren at first, but the Garden was quite nice, and he thought Adam and Eve were well enough for people. He could even have a nice conversation with Eve while disguised as a snake, and that whole thing about the Apple seemed to check the box for causing “trouble”, as far as Hell was concerned. Didn’t even make sense, really. She was hungry, there was an Apple tree right there, what was the big deal? 

But the best part of being on Earth was the view. He could see everything God had created from there, the sky, trees, and he was especially fond of the Moon. The thing was, he still loved all these creations, he still loved the Almighty. But there was a stubborn bitterness in his heart, planted there like a seed during his long Fall downwards. Even now he wanted to keep shouting questions at the sky, the same questions that had gotten him Damned in the first place.

Why were the Humans built in the shape they were? Why did the wind rush and the Sun sting? Why did questioning and suggesting and bending the rules get you a one way ticket out of Heaven? And why, oh why did the Stars have to stand still when Crowley would have made them dance?

At night, when the Garden was still and quiet, Crowley would sit on the edge of the great wall and look up into the sky, quietly remembering and naming all the Stars and constellations he had placed in the sky. He drew the lines in the air with his hand and smiled. The Almighty may have cast him downwards with the rest of them, but the evidence was still there. The evidence in the sky that he had once been Holy, he had once bent creation to his will with the rest of them. 

One star began it’s fall to Earth, and Crowley closed his eyes. 


End file.
